


Fashion Sense

by dexstarr



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexstarr/pseuds/dexstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane, Maura, and high heels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashion Sense

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LiveJournal femslash_today's Firework's Porn Battle. _Rizzoli & Isles_ is not mine, and no profit is made from this work.

Jane had never been the type of woman to appreciate—or care about—clothing. When she was younger, she had lived in sports bras and jeans, topped with oversized t-shirts nicked from Frankie’s closet. Then, when she had made detective, she had graduated to practical items: boxy blazers to assert authority, plain t-shirts that skirted the line of professional wear, and trousers that didn’t need ironed. And comfortable shoes—those were most important, with the hours she spent on her feet.

Whenever she came across another woman that was impeccably dressed—perhaps the wife of a victim, or a witness—she had always scoffed at them in her head. Who had that kind of time to waste in the morning? All of Jane’s clothing was bought ready to wear, so she didn’t have to worry about matching when her brain was half-asleep in the morning. 

And then, Maura Isles had waltzed into her life, in her peep-toe pumps, cashmere cardigans, and sheath dresses. All things Jane hadn’t had words for—or even known of their existence—until they took up more than half of her closet, left there when Maura stayed over. 

As Maura wormed her way into Jane’s life so did her fashion sense, until Jane’s favorite way to pass the last, dull hour of a Friday workday was to imagine what Maura would wear on their date night. 

Her imagination usually paled in comparison to whatever Maura picked, and tonight was no exception. Jane had barely been able to concentrate during dinner, reduced to grunting one word replies and nodding her head at the appropriate pauses in conversation. As she choked down whatever Maura had ordered for her, all she could think about was seeing her girlfriend naked.

Or, no—naked but for her heels, and maybe that black, lacy bra Jane had caught a glimpse of when she had zipped up Maura’s dress. 

Said dress was now a blue silk puddle on the floor, and Maura was bent over, left foot off the ground as she fiddled with the buckle at her ankle. 

“Leave them on,” Jane said huskily, voice lower than normal. 

Maura looked up at her, hazel eyes peering through the hair that had fallen into her face. “Jane?” She didn’t move, foot still hovering in the air, and Jane silently thanked Maura’s love of yoga. 

The look on her face must have answered Maura’s unspoken question, and she straightened up, coyly—and carefully—scuffing the tip of her shoe against the bedroom carpet. 

Thanks to her new knowledge, Jane knew the heels Maura had on were platform heels, and she liked how the dainty straps crossed her feet, black satin creeping upwards to wrap around her ankles. 

Jane’s mouth watered at the thought of the spike heels digging into her ass as she fucked Maura. “Take your underwear off and get in the bed.” 

Maura did so, gracefully unclasping her bra and tossing it to the side. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of her thong, she let it fall down her legs. When the panties reached the floor, she kicked her foot, sending the tiny scrap of lace skidding towards Jane, who growled and pounced on her as soon as Maura was on her back. 

Jane didn’t bother with foreplay—the whole night had been foreplay, from Maura’s curve-hugging, cleavage-baring dress to how her tongue had traced the rim of her wineglass after every sip. 

Maura’s legs spread at her touch, and Jane’s fingers were immediately slicked with Maura’s arousal as she pushed them into her. She groaned as her fingers slid easily in and out, each thrust sending a rush of wetness to her own core.

“Please, Jane.” There was the slightest hint of neediness in Maura’s tone, but Jane wanted to hear more. 

She adjusted her position, and Maura’s legs rose to lock around her hips, heels digging into her ass as if she had read Jane’s mind. Well, she probably had—Maura had a way of tricking her into trying new things.

Lips attaching themselves to Maura’s throat, Jane sucked her way down to the other woman’s breasts, careful to not use too much suction. Maura didn’t like love bites in visible places. Her thumb flicked against Maura’s clit, stroking the little nub as her fingers fucked Maura almost frantically. Another rush of heat went through Jane when Maura’s eyelids fluttered—the tell that she was close.

_“Jane!”_

Jane reached back to rub her behind after Maura collapsed onto the bed. The tips of Maura’s heels had practically pierced her skin, and she would have a nice reminder when she sat down at work tomorrow. 

Ignoring the ache between her legs, which had grown exponentially while watching Maura thrash about, she sprawled next to the other woman. Maura was panting, breasts heaving, and Jane had to close her eyes to give Maura time to recover. She wasn’t entirely a caveman, despite Maura’s teasing to the contrary. 

“Jane.” 

“What?” 

She felt Maura’s mouth brush against her shoulder. “Will you go shoe shopping with me next week? I find myself in need of more platform heels.” 

A shiver went down Jane’s back, both from Maura’s hot breath against sensitized skin and from the question. She bit back a laugh. Her earlier suspicions had been right—yet again she, Jane Rizzoli, one of Boston P.D.’s finest, had been outmaneuvered by Maura Isles. 

She really should get used to it. 

“Hell yes,” she rasped, voice thick with need. Tugging Maura on top of her, Jane noticed the smug look on the other woman’s face, but she let it go for now. “Fuck me, Maura.”

“Yes, Jane.”


End file.
